I've spent way too much time in Mercy Healthcare facilities lately. I've had several doctor appointments for routine things as well as my ongoing knee issues the last couple of months. If I don't see the inside of a medical building again this year, I'll be happy.
One of my friends had a heart attack a little over a week ago. She lives several hours from here and was in my neck of the woods attending an event. When we realized she was in great distress, an ambulance was summoned, and she was rushed to the hospital. She was taken into surgery, and then admitted to ICU.
I went to visit her in the ICU last Tuesday. She was feeling much better and in good spirits. I asked how she was doing, and her only complaint was about the food. As I was leaving, a couple of nurses were preparing to move her to a regular room. They were smiling and treated her like a friend. She was able to go home Wednesday.
Stepping off the elevator onto the ICU floor was surreal. I was on that same floor as a patient exactly three years ago. The smells were the same. The layout was the same. However, the staff was very different.
I was hospitalized during the height of the pandemic, and the timing apparently made a huge difference. Several of the medical staff were short-tempered and even mean when I was there. It took hours to get someone to respond to the call button. In sharp contrast, everyone I saw during my visit to my friend was friendly, helpful, and smiling.
I asked her how they were treating her, and she couldn't say enough kind words about her doctor. She also had nice things to say about her nurses. I was amazed to see for myself that everyone I came across was very kind and helpful. I had to ask for directions a few times because I get turned around in that giant hospital and lose my way.
I'm thrilled that my friend was treated well. She received the type of care I expect a patient in such as hospital to receive. As I pondered the difference in our experiences on the same floor, I came to the conclusion that the difference was the pandemic.
All of the medical staff was run ragged then. The hours were long, and the hospital was full. Not only were the doctors and nurses caring for deathly ill people, the uncertainty and misinformation regarding the virus was rampant.
Even understanding the circumstances and seeing the difference between then and now, I still harbor resentment over the way some of the nurses treated me. There was no reason for the male nurse to berate and scold me when I was taken to ICU. He went on a tangent saying I was in my condition due to my own bad choices.
Since when is pneumonia a choice? All of my health issues stemmed from untreated pneumonia and the stubbornness of a nurse practitioner who not only refused to acknowledge and treat my pneumonia, but gave me a drug that brought on ketoacidosis, sepsis, and kidney failure.
I had no appetite, so I wasn't eating much at all. If he had bothered to look at my chart, he would have seen my A1C was excellent, and that number doesn't lie. To add more insult, the night I nearly met my maker, he continually called me a mouth breather.
That's what happens when you can't get a breath, you breathe through your mouth. There were some other nurses who were on the mean side, but that male nurse inspired great anger in me at a time when I couldn't even talk to articulate it. I hope to someday run into him, so I may give him a little piece of my mind.
I know resentment isn't healthy. It does make me feel better to know that the nurses aren't treating people so poorly anymore. My friend had a great experience, and they no doubt saved her life. I'm grateful to them for their hard work with her.
The pandemic was terrible for all us, but especially for medical professionals. I pray we never experience anything like it again.
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